A Tale of Florence
by Lyn Harkeran
Summary: Period Drama AU: Lady Rosamund Darlinge has never been one to fawn or swoon over men. But when one Viscount Lucius Malfoy grants her his attention, she becomes rather smitten. OC/Lucius Malfoy, victorian era alternate universe, without magic. Romance, fluff, and feels.
1. Chapter 1

**~A Tale of Florence~**

* * *

She arrived in a carriage drawn by two creme painted horses, at the cusp of nightfall. The trip had been arduous, but not entirely unenjoyable. Lady Rosamund Alys Darlinge had always taken pleasure in traveling, though the distance she had come in a fortnight was admirable, even by her standards.

As the carriage came to a full stop, the Lady Rosamund waited patiently for the footman to open her door. When he did, she took his offered hand and exited into the calm evening.

The English countryside was a vision this time of year, as the sky seemed to glow like crystallized silver. Being near the middle of October, snow was not far off. Soon the thriving hills and dells would be covered in blankets of white and gray. With the numerous trees and cottages that dotted the land, it would be a sight lovely to behold.

Rosamund was grateful she'd be able to enjoy the winter months in her homeland. After years of being abroad, she drank in the crisp air of England like a drowning woman. It had been too long since she's traversed these paths. But she was home now, and she'd savor it without a second thought.

The pale lady calmly walked past the footman, thanking him softly as he began to unload her luggage, before she made her way towards the house in her view.

Arkae Grove was a lovely three story manor, with large windows and arches that overlooked a quiet lake surrounded by maple and ashwood trees. The structure was at least a century old, but with the constant care it received, one would never have known of its history. Bright mixes of clear cut marble and granite could be seen easily against the darkening sky, as if the house itself was made with a touch of eternal light.

It had been upwards of eight years since Rosamund had seen Arkae, and she found herself almost overwhelmed by her rising feelings of nostalgia. The longer she gazed upon it, the lighter her heart became. The reason behind her sudden return made the lady smile, but she fought down her excitement. There would be ample time to explore that elation later. For now, she would only focus on the moment.

As the footman fumbled with her two large trunks, the Lady quickly made her way towards the manor, her shoes crunching on the dirt path that led to the entrance. Though before she could come anywhere near the spacious porch, the door was thrown wide, and a figure darted out of the manor to greet her.

Rosamund's face split into a wide grin long before the figure- a woman with unruly black curls- tackled her in an embrace. The lady did little to quell her pleasure at the warm welcome, as her arms wrapped around the other smaller woman. The two continued to laugh and hug, before Rosamund peppered her companion with kisses.

Though one was dark skinned and the other quite pale, the two women had always been equals. They had grown together and had always been the best of friends. And now they embraced contentedly, giggling like schoolgirls, as they greeted each other fully.

"I should strive to visit you more often, Lyn, if I get such a lovely welcome," Rosamund teased, pulling away to look at the brown skinned woman happily. "I feel like a Queen."

"You _should_ dearest!" Lyn, the plump young woman with dark bouncy curls said with another laugh. "You're earlier than expected, otherwise I would have rolled out the red carpet and brought out a glass of wine to meet you!"

"I'm glad you didn't go to the trouble," Rosamund said. "You've got enough to worry about without pampering me."

"But I _should_ be able to pamper you, when you haven't darkened my door in years, lovie!" Lyn pouted. "It's cruel to make me wait so long to see you, my cousin. Shame on you."

"You have my apologies, dearest. . . But I am here _now_ , for as long as you'll have me." Rosamund tucked her arm around Lyn's as they walked up the wide porch steps together.

"You are always welcome in my home, cousin. For as long as you wish to stay." Lyn gestured with her free hand towards Arkae. "What's mine is yours. You know that."

"Thank you, Lyn. I am obliged to you and your household," Rosamund said as they strolled past the entryway arm in arm. "It is so very good to be back."

* * *

It was sometime later that Lyn and Rosamund settled in the parlor. Rose's trunks had been taken up to one of the guest rooms, and the carriage had rolled away into the hills. Now only the two women remained, not that Rosamund minded in the slightest.

As Lyn brandished a chilled bottle of wine for Rose's pleasure, the two grew comfortable in the quaintly furnished parlor. They spoke for what seemed like hours, joking and reliving their girlhoods from so long ago.

In the dancing glow of the candelabra and crackling fireplace, the ladies basked in each other's company. It had been so long since they'd been separated by life, that it was almost too good to be true.

As Rosamund sipped her wine, she realized that the house was a bit quiet. _Too_ quiet, all things considered… "Lyn?"

"Hmm? What is it, Rose?"

"It quite slipped my mind. . . But where's Vlad?"

At the mention of her husband, Lyn's eyes grew perceptibly lighter. "Oh, he took the children out to the lake to fish one last time before the water freezes over. I'm sure they'll be back anytime now."

"Out by the lake? This late?" Rosamund wondered, as Lyn nodded.

"Yes, they were bundled up well for the weather, and Vlad has always been a night owl. I fear it's rubbed off on our babies as well. Bedtime is rarely honored before midnight at Arkae. Hopefully it won't offend you, dearest."

"I appreciate the night, Lyn. We shall be owls together." At Lyn's relieved expression, Rose continued, "How many little ones do you have now?"

"Three," Lyn replied happily, moving to refill Rose's glass of wine. "Lydia, my oldest, and then my two-year-old twins, Jack and Jareth."

"I didn't know you'd had twins! What a wonderful gift that Gods have granted you." Rosamund had always loved children, and the news of her cousin having so many healthy ones made her heart incredibly light.

"I _am_ blessed, Rose, there is no denying it," agreed the plump woman, with a peaceful smile. "Between Vlad and our children, I am surrounded by love. I have never been happier. Especially now that _you've_ returned to top off my fountain of cheer."

Then with a thought, Lyn asked easily, "How goes your life, cousin? I have not heard from you in _at least_ three years, not even in letter correspondence. I had honestly feared the worst, until I got your notice that you were coming to visit. What has happened to you? Where have you been all this time? You must tell me it all!"

Rosamund's eyebrow rose with humor, as she took another sip. "Are you sure you wish to know? It is a long story."

Lyn bounced in her seat, like she had as a little girl, before granting her cousin her full attention. " _YESS_ , dearest! Tell me _everything_! You know I love a good story, and when last I spoke to you, you were in the midst of great adventures!"

Rosamund lowered her glass, beaming as Lyn's contagious giddiness captured her too. If Lyn wished to hear of Rose's exploits, who was she to refuse? It was a simple enough request, and one that she could easily indulge in. Seeing as she had looked forward to the opportunity since her arrival.

"Alright then," Rose said thinking back. "I shall tell you about my last three years. . . Though I'm not sure you'll enjoy it."

"Liar," Lyn chuckled. "Now, you must begin where we left off.… After leaving England, I recall that you found your way to Italy where you lived with our sister Aora for quite sometime. You were painting, studying the great masters, and living a life of glamour among the elite of Florence, or so your letters implied."

"That's one way of putting it, I suppose," Rosamund laughed. "But it wasn't quite as glamorous as all that."

"Oh, let a woman embellish won't you?" Lyn snorted with laughter, before sobering as she recalled, "Last I heard you were smitten with some man you met.. . . You must tell me more! What became of the man, and how did you meet him in the first place? What happened after your first encounter? Spill your secrets, Rose! For I will not let you be until you do."

"Such curiosity! … But so be it. I shall tell you all."

Rosamund Darlinge considered her words carefully before she began, slipping into a deeper cadence as she relived the past. Her last three years had been full of adventures and wonderful memories. Though she set her sights on several incidents and meetings in particular. Those unshakable memories that had followed her every step of the way, even on her journey back to England.

The lady took a deep breath and began her tale.

* * *

 ** _ **~Three Years Ago~**_**

Rosamund's blue eyes lifted to the high pillars above her head with an almost imperceptible sigh. Her heart ached at the beauty before her, though she had admittedly witnessed the glorious designs of the Florence Cathedral innumerable times. She had come to stay in Italy some five years ago with her younger sister Aora, though she never grew tired of the beauty of Florence and its architecture.

The woman walked through the _Duomo_ with soft footfalls, taking her time to gaze at the frescoes that lined the dome of the cathedral. Rosamund had never considered herself particularly religious, but the artistry of the sculptures and paintings was not lost on her. The details were absolutely exquisite in their singularities, and Rosamund often found time in her weekly schedule to come and wander the cathedral.

It was a sunny June afternoon, and Rose had happily taken refuge within the cooled dome. Florence had been sweltering for the better part of the week, making it nearly unbearable to stay outdoors for more than a couple of minutes. So, for her health as well as her personal fashion choices, Rosamund had donned a simple day dress with a loose neckline and a breezy skirt of her own design. She had received more than her fair share of glares and disapproving glances on her way to the _Duomo_ , but she had ignored them. Let them talk. Let them stare. It was their privilege, as it was hers to be comfortable.

Rosamund now smiled as a cooled breeze from the depths of the cathedral swept past her. It was subtle enough to barely ripple her light hair, but pleasant enough where she found her body relaxing. Sweat beaded at the nape of her neck and bosom, as she stared up at the frescoes, grateful to be shielded from the unforgiving sun.

It was sometime later that the Lady felt the foreign pair of eyes watching her. For a moment, she waited, before turning her light blue eyes to regard the one who was staring at her.

The man, who stood several feet away to her left, was undeniably handsome. With long white-blonde hair that draped well past his mid back, and intent pale blue eyes, he was unique. He was tall of stature and boasted a lithe physique. His clothing was obviously expensive and tailored to fit him flatteringly; a suit and day coat of the most lovely shade of forest green that Rosamund had ever seen. While his gray leather shoes shone brightly in the natural light and gleam of the candles.

The lady turned her head fully to look at him. And to her quiet surprise, the man held her gaze firmly, without any signs of remorse for being caught staring at her. He studied her for a moment longer, before he dipped his head minutely in her direction. Rosamund found herself returning the gesture, before she lifted her eyes back to the ceiling. When she still felt his eyes on her, she spoke, though didn't redirect her gaze from the frescoes.

"I would inquire to what has caught your attention so completely, sir. But I fear I already know the answer."

If Rosamund had been looking, she would have seen the brief smile that graced his lips as he replied. "I take pleasure in beholding beauty, my dear. I would scarcely restrain my senses from the things they delight in."

Rose's brow rose despite herself. His voice was like silk, and had the same effect as the sumptuous cloth. It crept deep into the folds of her dress and spine, and made unbidden goosebumps rise. Internally she was intrigued, but externally the woman kept her calm.

"So your eyes delight in the sight of me. I don't know whether to be offended by your familiarity, or flattered by your honesty."

The man calculated her expression before he took several steps closer to her. The tips of his shoes clicked against the soft stones of the cathedral, and echoed into the otherwise deserted area.

" _Social Propriety_ obviously doesn't suit you, so I assume you to be flattered."

Rosamund finally glanced back to find him closer than before, his pale eyes searching her with a coldness that didn't match his tone. It gave the woman the slightest moment of pause, before she plowed forward.

"What gave you such an impression?" Rosamund wondered aloud with humor coloring her voice, as she tried not to laugh.

As he gestured to her person, mainly her dress, it was clear that he understood her amusement well.

"If you cared about observed decorum you wouldn't be clad in so . . . _light_ a garment."As he said _light,_ a smirk rose to his lips, making Rosamund's smile rise to match him.

"I am sorry if I offended you with my lack of petticoats, sir." Rosamund couldn't have cared less if it bothered him, but she kept that gem of an admission to herself.

His pale eyes seemed to spark again as he gently shook his head. White strands of gold wafted about his handsome face, as he chuckled softly. "Speak no apologies on my account, my lady. The view has been most enjoyed and appreciated."

Rosamund found herself laughing heartily at his bluntness, a rosy hue rising to cover her pale skin. If she had been younger or a maiden, his words might have flustered her. But having been married before, the woman found his words refreshing and could relish them for what they were. He made no unwanted advances, or proposals. He merely complimented her beauty and physical virtues sincerely. Her face lit up at the thought.

Then before Rosamund could think to introduce herself, the man was offering her a bow. "I shan't take up anymore of your time, my dear. I wish you a fair afternoon."

Rosamund felt the smallest pang of regret, as she bid him farewell. "Good afternoon, sir."

His lips quirked upward again, before he turned and stalked away the way he had come. Rosamund watched him go, and listened to the _click, click, clicking_ of his heels disappear into the depths of the _Duomo_. Though even after he had taken his leave, Rosamund found that the feeling of refreshing giddiness stayed with her.

With a small snort of laughter, the woman shrugged and strolled deeper into the cathedral. She would spend another hour among the artistry, before making her way home for dinner.

 _A shame he couldn't_ join _me for dinner,_ Rosamund thought humorously, as she sat down at one of the countless pews to think. _I would have enjoyed his company._

But she then pushed the thought away. She wasn't one to pine, especially over strangers. So she locked her thoughts of the handsome stranger away and continued to study the breathtaking structure well into the late afternoon. Never once considering that she'd ever see him again…

* * *

"Oh my goodness, Rosamund! You are simply scandalous!. . . . I _love_ it!" Lyn laughed, as she leaned forward in her seat. "Why on earth, didn't you introduce yourself to him? He sounds like a lovely specimen of a man. And he clearly appreciated your _feminine_ stature."

Rosamund snickered at her cousin's flabbergasted state, secretly enjoying how much Lyn was invested in her story. "Because it's not nice to yell after strangers in a cathedral, _and_ he obviously had somewhere else to be."

"Don't you use logic on me, love," Lyn said with a fake sternness entering into her tone. "Matters of the heart don't follow the laws of horse sense."

"Who said he had anything to do with my heart?"

Lyn bounced her dark eyebrows up and down playfully. "Your eyes told me, dearest. . . Now back to the point! When did you meet him again?"

"Whoever said I met him again?"

"You mean to tell me that you met _two_ handsome strangers in Florence?"

"Oh, _hush_ you!" Rose gently smacked Lyn's forearm, as her light eyes crinkled with mirth. "You're ruining the story with all your guessing."

"Then you must be frank with me, my darling," Lyn chorused, nudging her back before reaching out to grab her hand. As her smaller hand grasped onto Rose's, Lyn offered her a bashful smile. "Please? Please divulge the rest."

"Very well... but no more interruptions or it will go straight from my head." It was clearly an empty threat on Rosamund's part, and both women knew it. But it didn't stop Lyn from nodding her agreement.

Rose refocused her thoughts before saying, "I didn't meet the handsome stranger again until almost two weeks later. And I must confess that Aora's connections are completely to blame for it…."

Lyn jostled in her seat once more, chortling as she settled in for the remainder of the story.

* * *

Rose held her breath, as she raised a tentative hand to rap at the door before her. She had never been particularly shy, but the woman always felt some apprehension when she arrived to work.

Since she had come to Italy, Rosamund had been honing her artistic abilities. After the death of her husband, she had done her best to become independent. Sure, she had enough wealth to live comfortably to the end of her days, but it wasn't enough. The lady was not happy when she laid idle. So she had taken one of her talents and molded it to its maximum form. Rose had always had a midas touch for painting and drawing, but in her years in Florence, she had soared into the confident shoes of a professional. Something that she was infinitely proud of.

Aora, her bubbly sister and best friend, was a well accepted socialite in Florence. And being thus, she had suggested Rose's expertise to all those in her inner circle. The rest was history. Now, Rosamund Darlinge had become a well known artist for the Upper Class of the city. She had nearly constant business, and had made a name for herself.

In truth, it was all she could have hoped for.

Currently, Rose stood at the threshold of her newest client. The woman had never heard of the Viscount that Aora had handed her the address too, but she had gone willingly. He had offered to pay her three times the amount that she normally charged for a portrait, so she didn't worry about the particulars. He was staying at the _Piazza della rossa_ , in one of the best lodgings that money could buy. The _Rossa_ boasted some of the most lavish accommodations in all of Florence, and was a barely hidden wonder of Italy. Rosamund had walked by it countless times since her arrival, but had never been granted access inside. . . Well _before_ today.

After several unnerving moments, the door swung open to reveal a spotlessly dressed attendant. Rosamund gave him her name, and he bid her to follow him. She was expected, just as Aora had assured her she would be.

The chambers they passed were exquisite and varied in shades of beige and pearl white. Expensive decor littered the living space in lovely displays, while countless canvasses hung upon the walls. They brought the only reprieve from the neverending white, making the odd colored canvasses stand out against their surroundings. Rosamund instantly fell in love with it all; her inner artist sated.

The attendant finally escorted her to one of the handful of parlors, before taking his leave. Rosamund sat down upon one of the downy loveseats, struggling not to fidget, as she continued to observe the chamber. Several minutes later, another man entered the room, and her heart skipped a beat.

There, striding calmly through the doorway, was the man from the cathedral! Though his endless waves of white-gold were held up by a black ribbon, instead of cascading freely about his shoulders, he was _unmistakable_. Rosamund's eyes shifted from his handsome, angular face towards his body and immediately felt herself flush.

Today he wore nothing save for a pair of breeches and a crushed velvet robe the shade of starlight. His chest was bared for her disbelieving eyes, while his feet moved without the burden of shoes against the fine persian rug.

Rosamund forced her gaze to lift from his finely chiseled torso to meet his gaze again. For a horrifying moment she was frozen in place, before she regained her composure. Shooting up, she dipped into a small curtsey, as was proper. One of his eyebrows lifted in amusement as he himself dipped into a short bow.

"Miss Rosamund Darlinge, I presume?"

"Viscount." She returned, fighting the urge to grin like a fool at her good fortunes. "Thank you for having me."

"Please, my dear, you may spare us the niceties. We _have_ met before. You may address me as Lucius while you are here," he said as he gestured for her to sit.

Rosamund slowly sat back down, and Lucius immediately joined her on the loveseat. He was close enough for her to catch a whiff of his personal scent, making her shiver. Fresh pommade and cologne that made her mouth water. Though she did her best to reign in her internal drooling as he spoke again.

"Your sister speaks most highly of you, Miss Darlinge. When I explained to her that I was seeking an artist, she was most eager to advertise your services."

Rosamund knew that the hint of a blush was lighting her cheeks, but she did her best to stay professional. He had asked her here for a painting, nothing more.

"Aora is very sweet… I would say that she speaks for me merely as a sister, but I believe that my work speaks for itself. I have years of experience and have done many portraits in that time."

The man, poised so expertly on the loveseat beside her, flashed her a small smile. The action made Rose's stomach clench.

Why was he bringing out this reaction in her? She wasn't a silly schoolgirl or a flakey female, by any stretch. So why in hell's name was she swooning?!

"I would be inclined to concur with your assessment, my dear," he drawled, with an unreadable twinkle in his pale blue eyes. "Seeing as the lovely Aora showed me samples of your art when last I visited her."

Rosamund had had no idea that Aora knew her handsome stranger. Nor had she expected him to be so familiar with her sister. Though she couldn't say that it was an _unwanted_ development.

The two were silent for a long moment before Rosamund cleared her throat. "So I assume you wish to have a portrait painted?"

He nodded, studying her intently with seemingly playful eyes, though he didn't say another word as he watched her.

"I brought my paints and a canvass with me," she said after a moment. "Though your attendant had me leave them near the entryway. . . I was unaware of whether or not you'd wish to start today. If it's a bad time I can come back tomorrow."

"Heavens no," Lucius replied with an easy shake of his bejeweled hand. "It would be a waste to have you leave now. Not when you came all this way."

Rosamund blinked, before a smile lit her features. "As you wish… Where am I to set up?"

"Right here," he said, gesturing about the room. "Is the light suitable?"

The woman nodded, while Lucius called out for the attendant to bring in her equipment. Once the attendant had come and gone- leaving the palette, paints, canvas, and stand- Rosamund began to set up a workstation. She was so lost to the task that she almost didn't notice Lucius slipping out of his crushed velvet robe, before draping himself across the loveseat.

The lady stopped, glancing over at him with a wide smile as her amusement almost overflowed. Now, only the breeches remained, and her eyes were able to wander unhindered. Her gaze drifted back to his, as she lifted an eyebrow at him.

Lucius smirked as he lounged fully across the seat. His expression spoke of absolute humor, as he openly regarded the artist. "I thought it was only fair that I pose this way, Miss Darlinge. You offered me such a _lovely_ view when we first met, it would be disgraceful _not_ to return the courtesy."

Rosamund snickered, as she purposefully mixed her colors on the palette. "The view is most … _appreciated_." She mirrored the words he had offered her in the cathedral, not bothering to hide the upturning of her mouth, as she fixed her canvas and looked to her model expectantly. "Is that how you wish to be painted?"

"Yes. . . Though I am open to suggestions." His voice was a purr of deep tones, as he openly teased her.

"I wouldn't even know what suggestions to make, my lord. You posed better on your own, than anything I could have imagined." She chuckled, dipping her liner brush into a watered-down gray.

"Careful, Miss Darlinge," he bid, as she began to paint a basic outline on her fresh canvas. "Such flattery can lead to treacherous paths."

"I thought we had passed that point long ago?" She said, as she shifted her focus between the sprawled man and her paint.

"Have we?" He spoke coyly, making her heart pound just a little harder. "I was unaware."

"We have already broken propriety without a chaperone present. Not to mention your current state of dress." There was no judgement to her words, merely observation, as she continued with her outline. "I dare say we've already breached the _rapids_ , at this point."

From his place upon the loveseat, Lucius snorted, rolling his eyes heavenward. Though otherwise, the man held perfectly still. From his controlled stance, it was clear that he had sat for portraits before. Rosamund absently wondered how many pictures of himself the man had requested, before he recaptured her attention with a sigh.

After that, the two fell into a comfortable silence, while Rose delved into her art. The only sound in the room was the soft brush strokes that the woman made, and the ticking of the clock on the wall. They continued like this for the better part of an hour before Lucius broke the calm with a question.

"Your sister mentioned that you were married, Miss Darlinge. . . What happened to your significant other?" The question was blunt, but Rosamund found that she didn't cringe away from it.

"He died, about ten years ago," came the simple reply.

The man's attention was almost staggering in that moment. "I am sorry."

Her features softened and she stopped painting to look at her model. "Please don't be. It was a long time ago, and there was no love lost. It was an arranged marriage, that held very little for me."

"And you never found yourself looking for another's affection, after his passing?"

"I was happy to be free," she told him truthfully. "I didn't see the need to chain myself down again. Not when I was finally happy."

He seemed to consider her words before asking softly, "Would you ever consider trying again with another? If he had no desire to chain you down?"

Rosamund's face crinkled at the notion. She hadn't given the idea much thought over the years since her husband's death. But as she answered Lucius, she knew that her words were sincere. "If I was with the right man, I wouldn't hesitate... I suppose I just haven't found him yet."

"Or you _have_ and you merely haven't gotten to know him yet," the Viscount countered with a smile that reached up to touch his eyes.

Rosamund felt her mouth go dry, as she fought to understand his words. Was she reading too much into it, or had he truly meant it? She couldn't be sure.

"Perhaps." It was all she could muster.

Lucius was still again for quite some time, before his intent gaze landed on the woman again. When she looked up from her canvas at him, it seemed as if he was peering into her very soul.

"May I call on you in future, Miss Darlinge? I fear that having you disappear after finishing my portrait is a rather unacceptable prospect."

A bright pink blush rose to coat Rose's face and neck, as she felt her heart flip in her chest. "I would hardly refrain from something I'd delight in, Lucius. You may call on me anytime you'd like."

Once again she mirrored his words, and Lucius chuckled as he returned to his earlier pose. For the remainder of the afternoon, the two talked of pleasantries, though both knew that things were about to change. . . for the better.

* * *

As Rosamund stopped talking, the parlor fell into silence, save for the old grandfather clock, until Lyn broke it anxiously, "That _can't_ be it! Why did you stop?"

Rosamund glanced behind her cousin, with happy blue eyes. "It's late, and I just saw your husband sneak in with your children a moment ago. The rest of the story can wait for tomorrow."

"But what happens next?" Lyn's jaw hung open as she laughed in shock. "How did your first date go? How did you fall in love with him?"

Rosamund laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her cousin's forehead tenderly. As she pulled back to meet Lyn's eyes, she felt her heart grow warm. "That is a story for tomorrow night, dearest. But for now, you must find rest."

"You promise to finish the story tomorrow," Lyn hedged purposefully.

Rosamund held the plump woman close with a contented sigh, "You have my word."

"Very well," Lyn agreed, as she rose from the sofa and turned to exit the parlor. "Until tomorrow, Rose. If you need anything, feel free to come and find me."

"I shall. Goodnight dearest one; kiss your babies for me."

Lyn blew her a kiss before disappearing around the corner, and Rosamund found herself sinking back into her chair. She watched the fire crackle in the stone hearth for what seemed like a lifetime, as she thought back on Lucius.

Rosamund let her fingers dip past the neckline of her dress, as she stared into the flames, pulling out a well concealed necklace chain. Suspended upon the burnished chain, rested a stunning circular band of the purest silver and green. An engagement ring. _Her_ engagement ring.

Rosamund felt tears rise in her eyes, as she thought of the man who had offered her the ring. And she knew that she would enjoy telling Lyn the second half of her story, more than anything. . . But for now, she would rest and dream of Florence.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ This was a commission for a friend that I originally posted on Deviantart, but I wanted to share it here too. I plan on having a second part of this sometime in the near future, so stay tuned. ;p

This story was super fun to write, not only because of the Luci snark and goodness, but because of my own little self insert into the story. X'D Lyn/Vlad wrote itself in there, though if you want more where that came from go check out my story **Dancing into the Night,** it's Lyn/Vlad central.

Also, AU's for Harry Potter characters is extremely trying and gratifying, and I love having Lucius without magic/not being a pureblood. lol

 _Quick Disclaimers:_ I do NOT own: the cover picture (which I found on google), Harry Potter (universe, books, movies, or characters belong to JK Rowling), Lucius Malfoy, Jason Isaacs, or Dracula (Vlad).

Rosamund Alys Darlinge (c) Than Blood while Lyn (lil ol' me) and Arkae Grove (c) belong to yours truly Lyn Harkeran.

Please drop me a review and let me know what you thought guys! I love to hear your thoughts and feedback!

 ** _~Lyn_**


	2. Chapter 2

**~ Part Two ~**

* * *

It was later in the morning when Rosamund Darlinge's blue eyes slid open. For several long moments the lady stared up at the ceiling, mentally cleaning the drowsy cobwebs that always overtook her when she slept. Her sleep was so peaceful these days that she could scarcely bring herself to rise some mornings, though at the reminder of the previous night, the woman found herself eager to start the day.

Slowly, Rose lifted up on her elbows, poised beneath the thick comforter and sheets, as her deep waves of hair cascaded around her shoulders and face. Normally she kept it up when she slept, but she had been too tired from her journey last night to braid it before bed. Now, it was a tangle of golden strands that would take time to sort, though Rose found that the prospect didn't sour her mood like she thought it would. Nothing could bring her down from her euphoric state of mind, and she mentally thanked all the deities she knew for it.

Several minutes later, Rosamund finally flipped her covers back and stood from the warmth of her bed. Absently, the lady noticed that a fire had been lit in the grate, which she found herself grateful for. Too many autumn and winter mornings had found her feet nearly frozen as she jumped out of bed to dress for the day. She would have to thank Lyn's household staff later on, when she found the time.

The guest room that Rose had been offered was quaint in its furnishings, but ultimately welcoming. The walls were painted subtly in graceful amber and butterscotch tones (it seemed Lyn had a weakness for yellow color schemes) while the bed, desk, dresser, and vanity were strikingly-glossed timber. It was rustic, but not horribly so. It suited Arkae Grove and her cousin very well, Rose thought, as she sat at the vanity to brush out her tresses.

Rosamund reached for the fine silver comb she'd brought with her, and fingered it thoughtfully, flipping it over in her delicate hands. In the light of the morning the silver sparkled and caught the sunshine pleasantly, almost like spun glass. So pretty, and oh so innocent.

It seemed like an eternity ago that she'd been gifted the trinket, and there hadn't been a day since Rose had received it that she hadn't used the comb. Surely she could have afforded a larger brush for her locks, or even a newer, more economic one. But she didn't. Instead, she kept the reliable silver in hand and basked in the memories it brought her.

Rosamund had learned early in life that sentimentality was better than effortless convenience, and the comb symbolized the lesson nicely.

She had been a younger woman when she'd received the gift, on her birthday, before she'd married her first husband. She'd been a young lady by all accounts, brimming with life and promise. Lyn and Aora, her sister and cousin, had presented her with the silver comb, wrapped in a beautiful handkerchief of sweet weaved lace. They had been simple gifts; even though Aora was a lady of standing, and Lyn had been engaged to a Count. But the simplicity had been half the beauty. They were meaningful, special gifts. And Rosamund had cherished them ever since: the handkerchief always on her person, and the comb always in her bag or on her vanity.

The items always served to remind her of her family, even when they were apart. The gifts brought back a slew of memories of her makeshift sisters; always guaranteeing her a smile or a laugh even in the darkest of hours.

And now she had a new item in which to house new memories.

The Lady's striking blue eyes shifted downward as she finished brushing out her hair. With a forefinger, Rose lifted the burnished necklace chain above the neckline of her nightgown. As the familiar silver and green ring swung into view, she found herself smiling softly.

The handkerchief, comb, and ring were all beautiful reminders of her loved ones. A respective piece of them that she could take with her everywhere. An unsoiled token of their bonds and past together.

Aora. . . Lyn . . . and Lucius, the love of her life. The thought still caused happy little butterflies to swarm her stomach, and a pleasant blush to creep to her cheeks.

As Rosamund began to dress herself for the day in an emerald day dress with free-flowing skirts, she found herself wondering on all that had transpired in the last three years. She hadn't lied when she'd told Lyn it was a long story, though she was more than a little eager to relay the rest to the bubbly Mistress of Arkae Grove.

As the Lady Darlinge replaced the engagement ring back into the depths of her dress, she felt lighter than air. She was back home in London, and she had met the love of her life. There was nothing more she could ask for.

. . . A silver ring from the gentleman in her life, a silver comb from her sister, and a silver-pearl handkerchief from her cousin. . .

As Rosamund exited her bedroom sometime later, she knew one thing for sure: silver was clearly her color.

* * *

 _ *** o * o * o ***_

* * *

As Rosamund strolled casually down the great staircase from the second floor to the first, she observed the stately house in the light of day. So much had changed since she'd last been here, but the overall feeling remained the same as she recalled. There was a _brightness_ , a warmth that enveloped all who stayed there. Even with the crisp autumn weather outside, the inside of Arkae was just right. It was almost overwhelming to the woman as she reached out to slide her bare hand against the polished banister, marveling in it all. She was so caught up in the feeling that she almost didn't notice the man who stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching her.

As Rose noticed him, her expression bloomed and she grinned at him. It had been years since she'd last seen Vlad Tepes, Lyn's significant other, but in all that time, he had hardly aged a day. Save for more profound smile lines that shone around his twinkling gray eyes.

"Count, you look well. Not a day older, if my eyes do not deceive me," Rose joked, as she reached out to wrap her arms around the pillar of a man. Embracing a member of the opposite sex wasn't the best show of propriety, but then again, Rosamund had never been one for such trivialities, nor had Vlad for that matter.

The Count returned the embrace immediately, a short chuckle lifting into the air, as they exchanged kisses on one another's cheeks.

"Time has been kind to you as well, Rosamund," he returned lightly, letting his eyes take in the familiar plains of her face. "I must confess your presence is a breath of fresh air to us. Lyn and I have both mourned your absence these past years."

"I have missed you two as well," Rose promised. "You have my word that I shan't leave again for so long. I have procured lodgings in London for when Arkae grows weary of me. . . Though I love Florence, the thought of departing England doesn't tempt me as it once did."

"We will never tire of you, Rosamund. And before you scoff, know that I speak for both Lady Lyn _and_ myself." The gray eyes were full of warmth and sincerity as he continued. "But enough of my sentiments. Were your travels pleasant, my dear? Were you happy?" His lips quirked with the questions.

"Very much so. It isn't an experience I would change for anything."

"I am glad to hear it, Rose." Vlad's smile was contagious now. "Now, if my wife's chatter was anything to go by, I believe you have a story to finish?"

Rose laughed. "I do. Did Lyn keep you up last night?"

Vlad's obvious humor was a sign of his serene character, as he laughed as well. "She _did_. Filling me in on the details of your travels and your incredible Viscount. I am delighted on your behalf, and hope he brings you all the happiness you deserve, my dear."

From the telltale twinkle in his eyes, Rose had the distinct feeling that Vlad knew more than he was letting on, but she quickly pushed it away. Lucius was her surprise, one that she would divulge in good time.

"Thank you, Vlad. . ." she said sincerely, patting his forearm.

Vlad placed his own larger hand over hers and squeezed it affectionately. "Love you, sister mine." Then he placed another kiss to her cheek and winked. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my children are no doubt wondering upon my absence. We were meant to catch frogs before their daily lessons start."

"Please then, don't let me keep you," Rose gestured for him to pass her, picturing the cute children she had seen sneaking into Arkae the night before. "Catch a frog for me."

Vlad promised he would with a chuckle before pointing in the opposite direction of the house. "Lyn is waiting for you in the kitchen. She was making you breakfast when I left her." As he began to stride away he called back over his shoulder, "Enjoy yourself, my lady. And try to keep my wife out of trouble, won't you?"

Rosamund's head dipped with humor as Vlad disappeared, before she walked towards the kitchen, her expression and heart equally light. She was surely the wrong person to keep Lyn out of trouble, but for Vlad's sake she would try.

* * *

 _ *** o * o * o ***_

* * *

As Lady Darlinge entered the kitchen of Arkae Grove several moments later, she was overpowered by heavenly sights and all manner of smells. The woman's eyes shone with disbelief at the breakfast spread of excellent food that met her gaze. Until that moment, she hadn't realized she was hungry. But hungry she _was._

"Rose, dearest! You're awake!" Lyn chirped happily as she pushed her unruly curls out of her face and dusted off her hands on her apron. "I trust you slept well?"

"Like the dead, my darling," Rosamund assured her merrily. "Oh Lyn, you've made a feast! Surely this isn't just for me?"

"It is~" Lyn sang, placing a plate in front of her and sliding a mug of freshly ground coffee beside the plate. "Eat up, sweetie. My family already ate their fill. It's up to you and me to polish off the food stores."

"It's too much," Rosamund snorted, but Lyn just shook her head with a grin.

"Nonsense. Tuck in, Rose, and don't bother a thought about your waistline." Lyn winked at her before she lifted her fork and began to happily munch on the mountain of eggs, bacon, toast, scones, and what appeared to be poached salmon.

It was like something from a bizarre dream, the piles of beautifully crafted food and the accompanying steaming pot of coffee. Mixed with the mellow atmosphere of the kitchen itself and the streaming sunshine from outside, it was surreal and downright perfect.

As Rose and Lyn both ate in comfortable silence, the later bounced her eyebrows meaningfully. "So. . . Now that you're comfortable and have food, I do believe it is story time, my lovie."

"Oh, is it?" Rosamund was tempted to tease her in that moment, to say she would have to wait until later, but her own excitement got the better of her, and she found she was unable to hold back. "Oh alright! Where did we leave off?"

"As if you didn't know," Lyn chastised goodnaturedly, sharing a laugh with the storyteller sitting opposite her. "You were painting a _stunning_ portrait of your Viscount Malfoy. As I recall he had just asked to court you, and you had said yes."

"Mind like a steel trap, dearest one," Rose tapped the side of Lyn's head to prove her point before she continued. "I completed the portrait after two sittings, and I must confess it was some of the best work I've ever done."

"With a handsome model that you'd actually _like_ to study, I don't find it hard to believe at all."

"Oh hush you!" The fair lady snickered as she ate another bite of her food. "You mustn't distract me, or I shall make an error of the details and ruin my surprise."

"Surprise?" Lyn echoed, leaning forward curiously.

"Yes," Rosamund agreed. "Now shall I continue?"

Lyn nodded emphatically, and Rose smiled.

"After I'd done such a satisfactory job on his portrait, he commissioned me for other work, and our meetings became a regular occurrence. For about five months we met this way. He'd sit for me and I'd paint him in different styles and lighting, and we'd converse. It was in this way that I started to truly know and care for him."

"So when did he officially start courting you?" Lyn wanted to know, her eyebrows perched high on her forehead.

"I consider the painting sessions to be a generous part of our courtship." Rose divulged softly, as a tender expression crept up to take purchase on her lovely face. "But the most memorable outing came on the cusp of our 6th month of courtship. . ."

* * *

 _ *** o * o * o ***_

* * *

 ** _~Three Years Ago ~_**

Florence, a city of indescribable beauty. A city of ancient domes and arches; a historical place.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that Rosamund Darlinge had first arrived here, a British Lady with eager eyes and a tourist's wonder. It was true that she was still a native of Britain, though she had undeniably become a seasoned visitor of Florence too. The lady now knew her way through the crowded streets and canals, having long since learned landmarks with her artistic eye. She no longer got lost, and she could name most of the famous structures on a whim.

Now, as she walked through the streets with Lucius at her side, the original wonder from when she'd first arrived in Italy returned fullforce. The feeling of her arm tucked into his as they strolled the gorgeous cobblestones, the scent of fresh pastries in the air, made her feel as if she was in the midst of her own fairytale. All that was missing was a fairy and some glitter.

When Rosamund mentioned this very opinion to her suitor, he chuckled deeply.

"I am sure with the proper incentive we could find a suitable visual, Miss Darlinge." He lifted an eyebrow playfully as she shook her head and laughed.

"I dread the kinds of _fairies_ you would scrounge up," she teased. "The idea of a bearded Italian dressed in tulle and makeshift wings is rather frightful to comprehend."

"Who said anything about a bearded Italian, my dear?" His light blue eyes danced with amusement as they gazed down at her keenly. "I am _standing_ next to one of the faery realm. With the proper gown you would fit the part nicely." He took in her delicate features, light eyes, and fair hair with a pleased smile. "So I suppose all that is missing is the aforementioned glitter?"

Rosamund blushed, before she drew deep into thought, considering the possibilities. Then she beamed at him. "I don't know where we would find glitter... but I have a reasonable substitute."

"You have my undivided attention, Lady Darlinge." As she gestured with her hand in front of them, he drawled, "Lead and I shall follow."

Rose didn't need to be told twice as she skipped forward down the lane, her hair bouncing about her shoulders as she felt her elation rise. The lady turned her gaze ahead of her, but engrossed herself with the sound of her suitor's footfalls as he walked calmly behind her. He was like a second shadow, unchanging and constant. The subtle clicking of his steps reassured and comforted her in a way that she could not entirely fathom.

Perhaps it was the fact that he didn't question her oddness, or make her feel like she was less? Or perhaps it was the fact that she had never felt so at peace in the company of a man before? It was true that she was no stranger to the opposite sex. Heavens wide, she'd been married not so long ago! And yet, her relationship with Lucius was different...

She had only known him for 6 months now, and yet she felt as if he'd always been with her. He was so familiar and safe that she sometimes forgot that they were still supposed to be _acquaintances_. It was surely a good stroke of fate that neither she nor Lucius seemed to take much stock in propriety. Otherwise they might have been traumatized by how quickly they had grown close.

"Are you going to let me in on your surprise, Rosamund? Or must I try my hand at guessing?" He called, as he reached out to grasp her hand in his own gloved one. The contact was sudden but not unwelcome. Rose entwined her fingers with his as she pointed to the nearest canal, her eyes flashing back to meet his striking ones proudly.

"There is no need for conjecture, Lucius. Look at the water and you shall see our alternative."

Lucius regarded the elated woman beside him for another moment, before he let his sights drift out towards the canal thoughtfully.

In the light of the midday sun, the water of the canals gleamed a bright emerald green, while the surface sparkled and danced with the lapping of the waves. It gave the tranquil illusion of a glowing, green pathway; ethereal and constantly in motion. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

When Lucius pulled his eyes away from the water, his expression turned warm as he brought Rosamund's hand up to his lips. And as his mouth brushed against her knuckles, he murmured, "A fitting alternative indeed, my lady. . . . Perhaps not all that glitters is gold."

"Perhaps not," Rosamund breathed as her heart fluttered. She returned the soft smile she'd been proffered without thinking.

As he once more held onto her hand, Rose led him over towards a resting Gondola at the side of the canal. The gondolier welcomed them with bright, fluent Italian, which Lucius immediately returned. Rose listened enraptured as the deep voice she'd come to know so well rose and fell in perfect Italian. Rosamund could speak Italian and French and a little German, as most ladies of stature could boast, but she could not perfectly emulate the different dialects and tones. She would have been fibbing if she had claimed to be unimpressed by his control and fluidity.

The Viscount deftly placed two coins into the gondolier's hand, before he gestured for Rosamund to board the craft. "My lady, your chariot awaits you."

Rosamund snickered despite herself as she was helped into the gondola. "Stop that. You'll make me go soft."

"I doubt such a thing could be managed," he said, smirking as the gondolier pushed them out into the canal waters. "In all my days, I have never met a stronger member of the female sex."

"Nor I a more steadfast member of the male sex, Lucius," she returned easily, winking at him.

Lucius' striking blue eyes sparkled again as the corner of his mouth quirked. "A match made in heaven. . . or so it would seem."

Rosamund felt slightly breathless as his gaze penetrated her completely, before she regained herself. "I find it hard to believe that either of us came from heaven, love. Too much hellfire and sheer cheek within the both of us for that lofty abode."

When she used 'love' as an endearment, a deep sound echoed from the back of the Viscount's throat. It was a pleased hum of delight, though it could just as easily have passed for a purr. And when he answered her, his voice was slightly huskier than just moments before, making Rosamund's breath catch in her throat for a second time. Why did he have such an effect on her?

 _You know damn well_ ** _why_** _,_ a voice inside her chorused, but she quieted it immediately. Surely it was too early for _that_?

… Or was it?

"Pardon me, my dear," Lucius drawled huskily. "I forgot I was in the presence of a Fairy Queen. I meant no offense with my mentions of Heaven and the like. . .." He paused for a breath, studying her painstakingly close before smirking. "Though I _do_ believe the angels might be missing one of their heavenly host. . ."

Rosamund was silent before she began to laugh heartily, her pretty face flushing for a reason other than attraction. "Oh Viscount, such laudatory exclamations! You hold me far too high! Fairy Queen, _Angel?_ You liken me to unreachable heights of beauty and virtue, I fear."

"Poppycock." Lucius' smirk grew, as did the light in his eyes. "You know I don't hold stock in half truths. I wouldn't say it if I did not believe it to be true."

Rosamund finally sobered, gazing at him deeply. Though his smirk never left, his expression shone with sincerity. "You really believe me to be that fair?"

His eyes grew softer as he answered without hesitation. " _Fairer_ , my lady. Though I have no doubt that you are made of flesh and blood. Mortal, same as I."

"What is it they say about rose colored glass?" Rosamund teased, but Lucius didn't grant her an inch.

"The Rose before me is all that I can see," he quipped gently, letting his eyes wander the plains of her body. His gaze left little to the imagination.

"But can you see the cracks and faults in her surface?" Rosamund wondered, leaning forward towards him without realizing she had. "Or is her beauty all that you know? Has her flashy exterior blinded you to what lies beneath?"

Lucius had leaned forward too now, his breath ghosting across her face as he reached up to cup it in his gloved hand. "Faults, beauty, and likeness: I see my lady clearly. And I have no doubt that she is my equal in all ways. Your past, your flaws, they are a part of you. . . And I find I take delight in _all_ you have to offer, my dear."

Rosamund's heart clenched with happiness and apprehension. She stared into his eyes for several minutes, marveling at the affection and light she saw there, before she closed the distance between them and let her lips meet with his.

It was a tender caress, a brief kiss by standards of the heart and soul, but meaningful in more ways than either could name. It only lasted for several seconds, but as Rosamund pulled away, her smile rivaled the sun when Lucius peppered her cheeks with fluttering attentions, humming once more.

Their Gondola sailed smoothly through the canal waters, and Lucius and Rosamund drifted into a peaceful version of their glitter-filled fairytale, not once letting go of one another's hands.

* * *

 _ *** o * o * o ***_

* * *

Rosamund blinked as her voice dwindled, snapping out of the trance-like state she had been under. With eyes that still held the mist of memory, the lady glanced over at Lyn who was surprisingly staring right at her.

Lyn's expression gave Rose pause as they exchanged glances. The rounder woman was nearly aglow, her soft features pulling into a knowing smile, as she reached out to take Rosamund's hand into her own.

"You love him, don't you, dearest one." It wasn't spoken as a question; rather, an observation.

Rosamund was silent for a moment before she nodded once, her face a sign of pure happiness. Lyn pressed a kiss to her cousin's cheek affectionately, before she squeezed her hand gently. "Finish the story, Rose. . ."

Rosamund hesitated for a breath as she considered how to speak the words aloud. When she had first come to Arkae Grove, it had been with the sole intention of breaking her wonderful news. . . But now that she was here, her tongue seemed to be tied up with her fluttering heart.

Then, all of her thoughts melted away to a single moment in time. And without preamble, she found her words.

* * *

 _ *** o * o * o ***_

* * *

Garments of all assortments and hues trailed before Rosamund's view, her deep blue eyes regarding the revelry that surrounded her on all sides. It was as if the colors themselves _breathed_. As if the festive dresses and tailcoats that spun around her were full of individual life and purpose. The thought was surreal, but beautiful at the same time.

The Lady Darlinge stood at the edge of a dancing throng, within the ballroom of the _Piazza della Rossa,_ dressed in a gown of royal gone were the months of summer, now replaced with the peaceful calm of Florence's winter. Snow was a rarity in Italy, but for the wonder of Florence, even the heavens had made an exception. It had snowed on and off over the past week, though come dawn it always melted away.

It didn't stop Rosamund from enjoying it though. It reminded her of England and her family, making the slightest twinge of homesickness overtake her. . .

Until she saw _him_ coming towards her.

As the lady spotted Lucius striding towards her, Rosamund swore that her heart skipped a beat. For tonight he was truly at his best.

White-gold strands hung in wisps about his face, while the remainder was pulled back in a festive bow of silver, sporting a flattering braid that rested well beyond his poised shoulders. His coat was the most stunning ocean blue she'd ever seen, with silver embroidery that matched his ribbon. His glacial blue eyes held her own without blinking, as he crossed the swirling veil of dancers and bowed before offering his immaculately gloved hand.

"You are a vision of loveliness, Rosamund." As she took his hand after dipping into a curtesy, the Viscount placed a chaste kiss to her knuckles in greeting. "Happy Christmas, my dear."

"Happy Christmas, Lucius." Rose returned, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, not minding the odd glances it garnered her. "You are quite dashing yourself, my love."

As of late, Rosamund had taken to using pet names for her suitor, and he had willingly returned the favor. The two had grown more intimate… undeniably close even by their standards of affection. Tonight was no exception. After almost a year of courtship, the boundaries of their relationship had blurred until they had almost disappeared completely.

Currently, Lucius leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "I am delighted to hear you are enjoying my ensemble, Lady Darlinge. It was intended for your pleasure, after all."

Rosamund's eyes shifted up and down his form leisurely, not bothering to check her gaze before she smiled and blushed. "Pleasure, indeed, my lord Viscount."

Lucius chuckled deeply before he tugged her arm, bringing her close enough to rest his large hand at her waist. Then, at her encouraging laugh, he spun them out into the sea of dancers. They waltzed around and through the other couples, merrily laughing and peppering each other with compliments and kisses, for what seemed like hours. Until finally, they were both flushed in healthy tones of pink and were breathing deeply. It was only then that they retired to one of the many balconies of the _Piazza della Rossa_ , overlooking the splendor of winter-graced Florence.

Fluttering flurries of snow fell in little droves, though the temperature was still warmer, making it all feel otherworldly. For a long time, Lucius and Rosamund merely watched it fall, lost in the tender company and companionable silence.

Then, after a time, Lucius broke the calm, kissing each of Rose's palms and smiling at her softly. It was an expression that he'd been sporting more and more often, and Rosamund found that she liked it, even more than his delicious smirk or wide cheshire grin. It always managed to melt her heart and force her mouth to upturn in a similar expression.

"Are you up for an adventure, my darling?" His voice was deep and flowing, like chocolate swirls, but firmly held the husky quality that made his speech so unique. "Before Christmas morn reaches us and the rest of the world?"

"I am up for anything," Rose answered without hesitation. "As long as you plan on sticking with me."

Lucius's mouth quirked further, before he draped his arm about her shoulders and led her towards the foyer. As they stepped out onto the street, Rose firmly tucked herself into the Viscount's side. The world seemed to grow still. Even as they drew to an unknown destination, Rosamund never doubted or feared. She had a strong partner and her own wits. Nothing was too great to face down, or too daunting to stand up to. So she held the utmost confidence, though it faded into utter delight as the Florence Cathedral came into view.

Rosamund's heart flipped happily in her chest as she looked up into Lucius's face. "Race you there," she said before hurrying off. Once more, she listened to his footfalls behind her, and smiled.

The Lady opened the cathedral door and waited, holding it open for them both to pass into the gorgeously lit _Duomo_.

They strolled through the passageways and chapel, before stopping to gaze upward at the frescos upon the ceiling. The paintings seemed to glow in the dancing light of the candelabras, and almost gave them the impression of moving pictures. Though Rosamund knew full well that it was just her eyes trying to adjust to the light.

"Do you remember when we met, Rosamund?" Lucius whispered lowly, letting his gaze drift from the _Duomo_ roof to the lovely woman beside him. "Do you remember what you said, upon our meeting?"

"I remember our first meeting well," Rose whispered back contentedly. "But you must be more specific, my darling... What comment am I supposed to recall in particular?"

" _I would inquire to what has caught your attention so completely, sir,_ " he recited softly. " _But I fear I already know the answer._ " He paused for a breath before he regarded her intently. "I have wondered since that day if you truly knew the answer."

"You mean _other_ than my cheeky retorts, beloved?" Rose laughed quietly, before her blue eyes danced along with the candles. "You were attracted to me from the beginning I think. You made it obvious."

"But my attention hasn't stayed constant merely due to your _feminine charms_ , my beauty." He let his fingers brush against her cheek lovingly. "It was your honesty, your liveliness and unyielding capacity for change and truth of character… and something else."

"What else, my lord?" Rose found herself asking, her heart fluttering anxiously in her chest as she waited.

"Why," he said calmly, slowly and purposefully lowering himself onto one knee. "The indisputable fact that I love you, Rosamund Darlinge. And that I would have you as my wife."

Rose's heart rose up into her throat as she gazed at the perfect ring that Lucius pulled from within his coat pocket, before she was falling to her knees in front of him, with teary eyes and the brightest smile of her life. From the moment she had met him, Rosamund had known he was different. And now, he proved her assumptions correct in all the right ways.

"Yes, my darling!" She answered, as he kissed her and slid the ring upon her finger. "A thousand times, yes!"

* * *

 ** _* o * o * o *_**

* * *

Rosamund watched as happy tears coated Lyn's face, and with a little sigh she pulled the ring out from it's hiding place. As the silver and green band flashed fully into view, Lyn gasped and immediately grew wide eyed.

"But Rose… that's no engagement ring. . . It's a-"

"A wedding ring, yes." Rosamund's face was covered in pure joy.

"But that means…. that **_means_**!" Lyn shot up out of her chair, a loud whoop echoing throughout the kitchen, making Rose laugh uncontrollably. "ROSAMUND ALYS DARLINGE! YOU GOT MARRIED!"

Rosamund winked at her cousin, thinking of her husband of two years fondly, as she slipped her wedding band back on her finger. She recalled the ceremony and following honeymoon with glistening eyes as she said simply, "Surprise~"

* * *

 **A/N:** The second installment of a three part story! I hope you guys liked it! Please let me know how you are enjoying the story! I would love to hear what you guys think of all of this. lol

 ** _~Lyn_**


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